


The Detective and The Doctor

by ShezzasCompanion



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Taking care of one another, implied nightmare, scars.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShezzasCompanion/pseuds/ShezzasCompanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the Johnlock Fic requests that I have written on Tumblr in no particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can't do this

**Author's Note:**

> I cant do this/ Johnlock Ficlet Prompt

Sherlock had been different from the moment he stepped off the plane. He had been quieter, more subdued, as if the week in solitary confinement had sucked the life right out of him, and in a way, he supposed it had. The last few months have been anything but kind to detective and quite frankly John has no idea how Sherlock has even managed to make it this far. Thought it is obvious the brunettes resolve is slipping, from the relapse after the wedding, to the morphine needed to dull the sharp pain from his bullet wound, to the near overdose on the plane. It was only a matter of time before it all caught up with him. And it came sooner rather than later. 

The phone call came early one Saturday morning as John laid in bed, playing the dutiful husband to the wife he no longer wanted. The sound of the mobile vibrating against the night stand woke him from his slumber. It took a few moments for his brain to register that the sound was in fact, not a part of his dream before he reached for his mobile as he slipped out of bed and walked into the sitting room to answer. 

INCOMING CALL: Sherlock

His heart pounded against his ribs as he pressed the answer icon on the screen, trying to remember the last time Sherlock had called him. 

“I woke you, didn’t I?” Sherlock greeted before John had a chance to say hello, His voice was rough and vulnerable and sounded as if he had been crying and the muffled sniffle that followed confirmed John’s suspicions. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know who else to call.”

Sherlock sounded so young and vulnerable on the other side of the phone and it made John’s heart break. 

“Are you alright Sherlock?” John asked, his voice still thick with sleep as he spoke. 

“I can’t do this” Sherlock answered. “I-I can’t do this anymore John.” Sherlock’s voice broke as he spoke and his breath came out in a huff followed by the sound of muffled sobs. 

“What can’t you do Sherlock?”

“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t. I can’t do this alone anymore.” He was upset, distraught. Everything that had occurred over the past few months had finally caught up with him. And here John was, standing in a flat he didn’t want with the wife he didn’t want either on the phone with Sherlock as he broke down. 

“Sherlock, I’ll be there in a few minutes alright?” The question was more rhetorical than anything, he was going whether Sherlock found it alright or not. “You don’t have to do this alone and I am not going to let you. I am not going to let the man I love do this alone.


	2. Comforting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is a bit sad about something and John comforts him the only way he knows how (this can be any method of comfort you see fit)

Sherlock is upset, that much is obvious as he lays on the sofa facing the  back while scrunching his tall lean body on two out of three of the cushions. John silently observes his friend and flatmate from his chair across the room and thinks about how he could possibly comfort the man who has given him so much.   
  
He sits quietly for a while, his laptop forgotten on his lap as he notices the little movements Sherlock makes, the tells that give him away from the dressing gown that is pulled tight around his frame to the wiggling that makes it seem he is unable to get comfortable. 

John wishes there was some way he could perhaps ease the sadness that has overtaken Sherlock, though he only knows one way to comfort people and he isn’t certain that Sherlock is up for physical contact as a way of comfort. Though there is only way to find out. 

With a sigh, John closes the lid to his laptop and shoves it unceremoniously between the cushion and the air of his chair before standing. He cleared the distance between the chair and the couch in a few steps and decided that the best way to approach this was just to be blunt. 

“Sit up”

“There is an entire cushion down there that is empty John.” Sherlock’s voice came out muffled and lacked the usual bite he would have expected. 

“I can’t hold you from down there.”

“Oh.”

Silence follows as Sherlock slowly unfurls himself enough so that he may sit up just enough for John to slip under him and Sherlock falters slightly as he decides if he should sit up completely or lay down once again. 

John makes that decision for him as he gently pulls him until Sherlock is laying on his lap, his head resting against John’s shoulder. 

The warmth from John’s body is inviting and more than welcome as his body relaxes. And Sherlock can’t remember the last time someone held him because he was upset, perhaps because it was so long ago. He isn’t sure what to say and instead he chooses to stay quiet for a moment or two. 

“Thank You John.”


	3. Take care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Gets hurt on a case and Sherlock takes care of him

John finds himself perched on Sherlock’s stool. His head is throbbing with each beat of his heart and he can feel the blood still trickle down he side of his face no matter how hard he pressed the gauze to the wound just beloe his hairline.

The doctor curses himself as he hears Sherlock digging under the sink in the washroom for the medical kit kept there. it was one of the few times that their positions have changed. He is the one that needs to be cared for and Sherlock is the one doing the caring and Johns not sure how to feel about it.

He remains silent as Sherlock enters the kitchen, unceremoniously shoving the test tubes and beakers out of the way to make room for the bag in his hand.

Sherlock has stripped off his suit Jacket and the sleeves to his powder blue shirt has been rolled up to his elbows. He is uncharacteristically silent, undoubtibly berating himself for the fact John is bleeding.

John focuses on the sound of supplies being set out: sterile gauze, suture kit, and latex gloves. There is the sound of gloves being snapped on before Sherlock comes into his line of sight. Latex covered hands pushed away Johns own from the wound he has been applying pressure to while Sherlock examines it.

John’s eyes flick upward to gauge Sherlock’s reaction, but his pale face is unreadable. Instead he is intently focused on the task at hand. there is a rip of paper and the stench of iodine fills his nostrils as Sherlock cleans the wound.

A sharp prick follows and a burning sensation spreads across the areas around it as Sherlock numbs the skin so that he May fix John up with little to no pain.

both of them are silent as Sherlock threads the needle before tilting John’s head back slightly to get better light.

At this moment there is no one John would rather have do this as he feels the tugging sensation as his skin is pulled back together. Sherlock’s hands are steady and his movements are precise and the small stitches are less likely to scar.

John knows it is Sherlock’s way of apologizing for the fact he got hurt. he had overlooked the fact the suspect they had been chasing had an accomplice and only became aware of them when they had stepped out of the shadows in the alleyway and took a swing at John, hitting him in the face. the weapon in his hand slicing John’s skin causing blood to pour from his wound.

Sherlock had promised to take care of him after they had apprehended the suspects and John had not argued. he hated hospitals and he dd not want to go to one when he could be cared for at home.

“You’ll need to stay in my room tonight.” Sherlock voiced as he finished stitching up John. “I want to look after you, make sure nothing goes wrong or your condition changes.”

John nodded slowly, he wasn’t going to argue with Sherlock. Besides it sounded like a good idea, sharing a bed with Sherlock so he could be monitored.


	4. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue prompt "Don't ask me that"

John stood in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes fixed on Sherlock as he stood in front of the sink, his hands clutching the edges as if the porcelain was some sort of Life support. 

From where John stood he could see Sherlock’s chest heaving as if he had been running, though he knew that wasn’t the case. It was nearly four in the morning and he had been called By Mrs. Hudson no less than twenty minutes before. She had been worried about Sherlock and her concern colored her voice as she spoke. In the background he could hear what sounded like muffled cries of pain and he had wasted no time changing his clothes and getting into the car and making the ten minute drive to Baker Street. 

He had let himself in and gave Mrs. Hudson a reassuring look as she watched him ascend the seventeen stairs to the flat he once shared with Sherlock. The door was closed but not locked and he had no problem letting himself in when his calls for Sherlock went unanswered.

The light from the bathroom painted the hallway a soft yellow as John peered into the kitchen to see if Sherlock was perhaps there and again, as he called his name, there was no response. 

John became worried and made his way down the hall and stood in the doorway, his eyes falling on Sherlock’s obviously tense and panicked form as he clutched the sink. It was the first time he had seen Sherlock this way, the first time he noticed the raised, pink skin that crossed Sherlock’s back. His Scars. He was rooted on the spot as what he was seeing hit him.   
“Sherlock?”John asked, his voice coming out low as he stepped into the enclosed space. He noted the way Sherlock’s head turn towards his voice slightly.

Sherlock tensed as John came closer, though he wasn’t really sure if that was possible. However, the tension in his body eased as John laid his warm hand atop of his own cooler one. It was the touch that grounded him much better and faster than him clutching the sink and muttering to himself that he was home. That the nightmare that had gotten him so upset was just a dream. 

“You Alright there?” John asked and he nodded slowly as he got his breathing under control as he slowly loosened his white knuckle grip on the edge of the sink. 

There was a silence that followed, one that was full of questions and a feeling of shame and guilt as Sherlock realized John had seen his scars. Now he wishes he had pulled on a shirt before he had gone to bed, though he had never really thought John would come to find him like this. 

Sherlock’s mind wandered as John helped him back into his bedroom, where he sat on the edge of the bed, refusing to look at John, who broke the silence. Sherlock knew he would want answers, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give them.

“How did you get those scars on your back Sherlock?”

“Don’t ask me that...”Sherlock’s voice came out shaky. “Please.” He wanted to tell him just to go back home, to Mary. But he couldn’t. He wanted him there, needed him there actually. 

Sherlock could see that John tensed before he sighed but he didn’t press the matter. John, good wonderful John did not press the matter. Instead he told Sherlock to lay back before pulling the covers over him. There was a dip in the mattress near Sherlock’s knees. 

As Sherlock closed his eyes, he decided he would tell John if he was still there in the morning and if he still wanted to know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know we’re suppose to be together. I knew it the first time I saw you, and you know it, too. I know you do.” Johnlock

 Their breath came out in white puffs as their chests heaved. Their bodies were in such close proximity to one another John could feel the heat radiating off of Sherlock’s body, and the fact Sherlock’s gloved hand was gently grasping his arm made it that much harder to focused

John had stormed off from the crime scene, angry. Though what he had no idea what he had been angry about now. Perhaps he was angry at Sherlock, Though he was probably more angry at himself more than anything. In fact he knew he was. 

John knew that Sherlock had picked up on it. He had probably deduced the fact he had been lonelier now too. He hadn’t moved back to Baker Street since Mary had been arrested despite the fact it felt like home. No, instead he was staying at the flat that he had decided to rent when he moved out all those years ago. Why he was still there though, was beyond him. 

Perhaps it was the declaration of feelings on his part, the fact Sherlock had not said a word afterwords and left him hanging that made him reluctant to go back. He didn’t want things to be awkward.

Sherlock cleared his throat and John’s attention shifted from the hand on his arm to the other man’s face. There was a look set on his features that he had never seen before, there was a softness to his sharp features that seemed to make him ever more lovely. 

“I realize I never told you that I reciprocate your feelings.” Sherlock said softly. “I think I was too much in shock to say anything, but I love you”

John blinked

“You know we’re suppose to be together. I knew it the first time I saw you, and you know it, too. I know you do.” 

John stood there for a moment, transfixed to the ground as he watched Sherlock. In a heart beat he grasped the lapels of Sherlock’s coat pulling him closer until their lips met. 


	6. The beach

The air is cool and crisp and salty as Sherlock sits upon the beach towel that had been laid out just for him. His long pale legs are stretched out in front of him being warmed and dried by the sun as he hides the rest of his pale body under the large beach umbrella in an attempt to stave off a sun burn. 

Feet away from him, John is running on the hard packed sand by the waters edge, his arms stretched out in front of him as he attempts to catch the rugby ball that has been thrown his way. John was tan, muscular, and rather fit, which drew Sherlock’s attention as well as that of other beach goers. (Specifically those who had invite him to play rugby with them.) And if he were honest, they were giving John a bit more attention than Sherlock liked. 

Sherlock clenches his jaw as he notes another lingering look one of the fellow players is giving John. He tries to tell himself there is no need for such a reaction. John is a handsome man and a faithful one too, that there is no way he would replace Sherlock with one of the obviously beach goers who are openly flirting and leaving lingering touches. However Sherlock can’t stop his hands from clenching in the sand or the burning sensation that has begun in the pit of his stomach. 

He wants them to know that John is unavailable, taken, his. And he does as one of the beach goers goes in for an unmistakable kiss. 

Sherlock pushed himself to his feet, his hands releasing the fists full of sand he took with him as he marches toward the small group who are just lightly passing the ball to one another. No one seems to notice him approaching with quick strides, but he does note how John turns his head so the person only kisses his cheek. 

“Oh.” John says in surprise as Sherlock wraps his warms around his waist, grabbing the attention of the others. He makes sure to press himself firmly against John’s warm back, taking care to lay his head on the shorter man’s shoulder. 

“That was a nice game you played out there, but don’t you think it’s time to come back and rest for a bit dear?” Sherlock asks, his eyes dancing over the others face as they begin to scowl. 

“Probably, love, my leg is beginning to ache a bit.” John replies as he turns his head to place a kiss on Sherlock’s temple. “Thanks for the good game guys, but as you can see, My boyfriend thinks I should probably take a break and I agree.”


End file.
